You Have Been Impregnated For National Security Reasons

Last week I was in Santa Cruz, a beautiful Bolivian city a few hours north of the Argentinean border. I was sitting by the pool in one of the nicer hotels when the world came to an end.

I had my book, my towel, a watery Ruso Negro, and of course, my camera. Across the pool appeared one of those guys with the serious video camera - not the honey let's take the camcorder on vacation but a serious piece of equipment, with a parabolic microphone and everything. An attractive young lady came over, looking sort of producer-ish. And finally, two women showed up. If you've ever watched Spanish-language television, you know the type: beautiful women with perfect bodies, selling Goya or some such nonsense. I have hundreds of Goya products sitting around at home going to waste, purely due to my powerlessness over Latin sales-models.

As the two bikini-clad women started cavorting in the shallow end of the pool for the camera, I put my book down. I wasn't sure what I'd be doing for the next few minutes, but trying to read seemed a little silly. I mean, watching them film any TV commercial 30 feet away from you is kind of cool. But a commercial featuring two girls going splashy-splashy in the pool?

Of course, my wife was sitting next to me the entire time, so I knew taking pictures would be risky. Dare I risk it? For my loyal reader(s), I must. I'm pretty sure she knew I was taking them anyway - I'm slick, but she's slicker.